Dream a Little Dream of Me
by Lilbit903
Summary: Funny what a bit of Mistletoe can lead to, especially when there's a meddling Zabini, and a drop dead gorgeous Marcus Flint involved. What happens when Hermione finds herself wanting to kiss Flint, even when she swore she wouldn't? Written for the Fairest of the Rare's Advent


**This was written for the Fairest of the Rare Advent.  
Beta'd by the wonderful darling known as Vino Amore.  
Please enjoy this bit of Holiday Fluff.**

* * *

Hermione was in a particularly foul mood. It was the week before Christmas and the Ministry was abuzz with the upcoming preparations for the first annual Yuletide Ball. Perhaps it was scrooge-ish but Hermione was not in a festive mood. But catching your long term boyfriend in bed with another woman would do that to a girl. She had planned to spend Christmas with the Weasley's but now she was left to fend for herself. Especially after Ginny had told her that the trollop Ron had been caught with would be accompanying him to dinner. There was no way she would be able to sit through a dinner with the Weasley's and smile as if nothing was wrong. It would test the limits of even her control, so she had decided to politely bow out to save Molly the stroke.

And now, thanks to some idiot in the PR office she was having to dodge enchanted mistletoe in the workplace. Glaring at the sprig that had sprouted just in front of her, she sidestepped it, mumbling to herself as she went. This had Zabini's handiwork all over it. It seemed as if all the women in the Ministry were being targeted by the annoying Christmas decoration, and once caught they were unable to move, until someone came along and kissed them. Hermione wasn't in the mood for being kissed, much less by a stranger, thank you very much. So she had taken to evading the nuisance plant at every turn.

Unfortunately it seemed as if the plant just became more persistent, popping up every few steps, just hoping to catch her off guard. Cursing as she avoided yet another apparition of the demon plant, she didn't realize she had stepped directly into the path of another. Growling in frustration she pointed her wand at the bit innocuous plant, intending to set it aflame and be on her way. When her incendio had no effect, she huffed and crossed her arms. Honestly it was like the damned things were out to get her. Frowning she waved her wand again, hoping to be able to dismantle the charm so she could free herself before anyone saw her.

When she pulled at the binding of the charm together though, she was surprised when a small parchment floated down instead. Wrinkling her brow she carefully opened the letter, knowing that if intended to cause her harm the spells she had put in place among the Ministry would destroy it. Growling in annoyance as she read the offending words.

 _You're never going to figure it out, Granger. Just enjoy the Holiday fun. - Zabini_

Ripping the parchment into tiny pieces she let them float to the floor, before using her wand to set them aflame. Never figure it out, my arse, she thought bitterly. She was the brightest witch of her age, and she'd be damned if a slimy Slytherin bested her. Sure, she mostly got along with the Slytherin's after the war. She'd even testified on behalf of Malfoy, but when they did things like this, she was reminded that they could still be slimy little snakes. Glancing around the hall she was put out to see it was empty. Not too strange considering the time, but if she looked closely she could see the glimmering of a notice me not charm. Damn Zabini.

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear, she groused when she saw Zabini pop his head into the corridor. He shot her a grin before disappearing again. "Zabini! Get back here you arse!" She shouted after him to no avail.

Running her hands through her mass of curly hair, she refocused her attentions on the mistletoe above her. She waved her wand with a simple finite incantum. No luck. Frowning she tried every reversal spell she could think of, all without results. Perhaps it was the result of a sticking spell, she mused idly. Wracking her brain for a list of counter curses, she raised her wand intent on trying yet again to free herself.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Came the low drawl of a man she had only caught glimpses of in the years since the end of the war. Turning she eyed Marcus Flint appreciatively. He was still a giant among men, but somewhere during the course of the years he had gotten his teeth fixed. His dark hair swept across his forehead tantalizingly and she resisted the urge to push it back so she could see his eyes.

He had a crooked grin on his face and approached her with an ease of confidence that made her wary. Nothing good ever came from confident Slytherins. It was usually a sign that they knew something you didn't and, unlike most, they were prepared to use that information to get what they wanted. Judging from the glint in his eyes she had a very good idea what that might be.

"Oh? And what would you do, Flint?" She asked hotly. Feeling annoyed and flustered that he had caught her looking stumped over one measly little plant. Honestly, if she ever got her hands on Zabini she was going to kill him with her bare hands.

Flint's smirk widened and he stepped into her space, looking down at her, making her feel incredibly tiny. It was ridiculous. She was an average sized woman, but this man was anything but average. He stood at least a head and a half taller than her, with broad shoulders and a narrowed waist leading to long lean legs. He was muscular, and she stopped herself from thinking about what exactly made him that way. His dark eyes were like melted pools of chocolate, and she wanted to drown in them.

Shaking those thoughts from her head she glared at him. Damned hormones. It wasn't fair that one man could be so incredibly sexy. He was full out grinning at her now, as if he knew what she was thinking. Instinctively she raised her Occulemency shields. No need to give information to the enemy.

"Well, if I were you, I'd grab the nearest passerby and kiss them to free myself." Flint chuckled, meeting her eye. The glint was back and she inhaled sharply. No. No way was she going to kiss him to escape. Zabini would never let her live it down and she had no doubt that Flint would tell Zabini that his plan had worked and the she had not been able to escape.

"But, you're not me. Are you? No instead, you'll stubbornly stand here trying to dismantle the spell keeping you here until you're completely exhausted. And then, tomorrow morning, the Ministry workers will come in to find you asleep on the floor. Beaten by a bit of mistletoe." He was grinning again and she felt the need to stamp her foot in protest.

She could figure her way out of this mess. She wasn't the brightest witch of her age for nothing after all. Deciding to ignore him for now she returned to her casting, more determined than ever with Flint's eyes locked on her. He must have spent an hour watching her work, before he spoke again.

"You Gryffindor's really are a stubborn bunch. I'll tell you what. I'll kiss you. Get you freed from the ruddy plant. Hell, I'll even tell people you managed to free yourself. On one condition." Flint told her, standing close enough that his chest brushed against her back.

She bit her lower lip nervously. If he kept his word, then the deal wasn't all that bad. After all she had already spent nearly three hours trying to get free to no avail. But it was his condition that made her hesitant. Turning slowly she looked up at him, question in her eyes, along with a healthy dose of suspicion.

"Condition?" She prompted, unwilling to sign a blank promise to a Slytherin. There was no telling what he might ask for if she was naive enough to do so.

His slow smile was telling and she felt her heart race in her chest.

"You'll accompany me to the Holiday ball. As well as one date beforehand."

"No. Absolutely not! I will not be extorted into going out with you Flint." She growled. Honestly what was with Slytherins? Did they have to constantly be scheming? What happened to just asking a girl out? No, they had to plot and plan to get a girls attention.

"Well then, I guess you'll just be stuck here." He told her, rocking back on his heels. That smarmy smile still in place. Hermione huffed. Damn him. He knew her pride wouldn't allow her to admit defeat, but she wouldn't be bribed or extorted into going on a date with him.

"I'll accompany you to the ball. But no date." She told him. After all, the ball was a work related event. She could easily say they were attending as acquaintances should any body ask.

"Mhm, no deal. You'll accompany me to the ball, and a date a week afterwards." He countered, watching her face closely.

Hermione let out a huff. That wasn't any better. The week after the ball was the Ministry's busiest time of year, when everyone was rushing to pass new laws into effect. She doubted that had slipped his mind. Staring at him she wondered briefly why it seemed that all Slytherin's were inherently sly, with a few exceptions. He knew she didn't have a lot of options, and she could tell he was enjoying the power play. Bloody Slytherins.

"If I agree, you're not allowed to kiss me again." She bargained, petuantly. If she had to kiss him to gain her freedom from the troublesome plant then she would. But there would be no way that she would kiss him again.

"Hmm. And what if you want to kiss me again?" He asked huskily, eyelids heavy as he stared at her.

Hermione licked her lips and swallowed convulsively, "Not bloody likely." She hissed. Damn him and his good looks. Staring at him she trailed her eyes to his lips. They were full and sensual and dammit they were smiling at her again. Quickly redirecting her gaze she met his eyes, and the spark there told her he had caught her staring.

"So do we have an accord? I'll kiss you so you are free to wander again, and in return you'll accompany me to the ball and on a date." He asked leaning down so that his breath fanned over her face. He smelt of mint and chocolate, a rather odd combination but pleasant nonetheless.

"The date will be before the ball." She told him cautiously.

His lips twitched, "Fair enough." And with that he leaned down further and captured her lips in a kiss. Before she could pull away, one of his large hands had found its way into her riotous curls, while the other made it's home on her waist. Hermione felt herself melt into the kiss as his tongue came out to tease her lips and she gasped in surprise. It was all the invitation he needed as he deftly plundered her mouth.

Unwilling to let him take the lead she thrust her tongue against his own, dueling him for control of the kiss. Her hands had wound their way into his dark locks and the hand on her waist dropped under her arse to pick her up. Wrapping her legs around his waist instinctively, she barely noticed that they were moving until she felt her back hit the wall. Pulling away, she met his heavy lidded eyes with her own.

Before she could attempt to kiss him again, he gently sat her down, causing her to brush against his obvious erection. She felt her knees weaken, and she wanted nothing more than to climb back up his body and see if that spark she felt could ignite a wildfire between them. She watched rather put out when he stepped away from her deftly.

"It's too bad, you said I couldn't kiss you again. Because right now, there's nothing I'd like better. I'll pick you up at seven on Friday. Wear something," His eyes darkened as they roved over her, "sexy." And with that he was gone. Hermione placed one hand to her lips, the other behind her against the wall to prevent her from sliding down it. It was going to be a very long week.

*M&H*

The week passed by agonizingly slow for Hermione, and by the time Friday rolled around she was in a state. She had spent the entire week trying to figure out Flint's angle. Why was he the one who managed to find her, when she knew Blaise had seen her? And why had he insisted on a date as well as her attending the ball with him. It made no sense, and it made her aggravated. She hated not knowing things. Knowledge was power, but more than that, it was protection. If you knew what people were planning ahead of time, they couldn't hurt you with the information. Therefore not knowing what the Slytherin man was planning set her on edge. Not to mention that kiss. It had been spectacular. Better than any other kiss she had ever partaken in.

It made her ache to know why that was. Was it just a one off? Or would it be the same any time they kissed one another? And dear Merlin, she couldn't believe she was thinking about kissing him again. She felt her ire grow, this time directed at herself. She had told him that under no uncertain terms would she be kissing him again. To give in would be admitting defeat, and if there was one thing Gryfinndor's didn't do, it was admit defeat. She would have to figure out a way to get him to kiss her. For research purposes only. There was no way she was actually wanting to kiss Marcus Flint. No way at all.

It was a quarter to seven, and Hermione found herself smiling at her appearance in the mirror. Flint had told her to wear something sexy, and that was the only word to describe the dress she was currently wearing. It was shorter than any other dress she owned, and flared out with a slight pleat, reminiscent of the school skirt she used to wear. High necked in the front it clung to her ever curve before flaring out at the waist. The back was laced up corset style, showing off enough skin to be teasing, while still being relatively modest. And the best thing was that it was in a deep red color.

Let that be a reminder to Marcus, that she was still a Gryfinndor Lion through and through. She had tamed her curls to fall gracefully down her back, painted her lips a red to match her dress and applied subtle smoky eyed makeup. She just needed to put her shoes on and grab her clutch and she'd be ready to go.

At five til seven, her doorbell rang, and she took a moment to compose herself before answering. Upon opening the door she felt her breath catch in her throat. Marcus was handsome on any given day, but he had obviously went to great lengths for his appearance tonight. The dark suit was tailored to fit his large frame, hugging his strong legs and outlining his broad shoulders. A dark green tie was visible from under his suit jacket and she let a smirk cross her lips. Obviously he had the same thoughts as her when getting ready for their date tonight.

"You look ravishing, Hermione. I can call you Hermione, can't I? The evening would be rather awkward otherwise." Marcus mentioned, holding out a hand for her to take. Hermione sent him a soft glare and accepted his hand. Cunning snake. She had hoped to keep some distance between them by referring to him as Flint, but she had to concede that he had a point. Spending the night calling him Flint would be tiring, especially since she thought of him as Marcus.

Grasping his hand in hers, she inclined her head fractionally and stepped out of her flat. Turning she waved her wand in a complicated pattern, sealing her private domain.

"Shall we go?" She questioned, when she turned back to face him.

It seemed they both agreed to ignore the fact that she had yet to release his hand.

Marcus apparated them to a recently opened restaurant named the Silver Cauldron. It was expensive and sexy, therefore making it a popular place for couples. Walking in Hermione took a moment to take in the surroundings. The walls were a light cream color with silver spirals reminding her of steam billowing out of a cauldron painted upon them. Sleek hardwood floors dominated the main lobby and flowed into the large dining area. In the center of the room was a raised dance floor, an enormous crystal chandelier hung directly above it. A live jazz swing band was playing in the corner on a low lit stage. Crooning to the dancers who were occupying the space. All in all it made for a breathtaking sight.

The hostess took Marcus' name and immediately motioned for them to be taken to their table. It was situated at the far side of the restaurant, near the two large floor to ceiling windows. A small vase sat in the middle of the table, containing a small bunch of French lavender. Marcus pulled out her chair, and pushed it in for her once she was seated before seating himself. Hermione smiled in thanks and folded her hands in her lap to keep herself from fidgeting. There was no reason to be nervous. None at all.

"Have you ever been here before, Hermione?" Marcus asked as he overlooked the menu.

Hermione stared at her own menu as she answered, "I'm afraid not."

She ignored the smirk playing on his lips in favor of selecting her meal. Steak Diane looked to be an excellent choice.

Marcus glanced at Hermione over his menu, "Well then, I am honored to be the first to bring you here."

Hermione felt a smile play on her lips, surprised by the genuine sincerity in his voice. It had been far to long since she had been on a date with someone who was out to impress her. Ronald's version of a date had always been dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, followed by a trip to either of their flats for a quick shag. She shook her head slightly to push those thoughts from her mind. No matter. She was here with Marcus, and there was no room for Ronald Weasley at their table.

When their waitress finally approached, Hermione couldn't help but notice the way she pushed her chest out towards Marcus. For his part he barely glanced at her before, ordering a vintage wine from their extensive list. The waitress gave a little huff and turned on her heel, seemingly stomping away.

Hermione covered her mouth while she chuckled.

"I take it she's not your type?" Hermione asked, feeling pleased by the fact that Marcus was polite enough to not flirt with their waitress.

"No. But you are," he relied brazenly. Meeting her gaze evenly with that infuriatingly delicious smirk on his face. They must teach that in Hogwarts during the first week.

Sucking in a breath, she glanced around the room nervously, never allowing her eyes to settle anywhere too long.

Marcus' chuckle brought her attention back to him, "Was I too forward?"

She sent a mild glare in reprimand, "No, however I was not expecting for you to consider me your type." In truth he had shocked her. She had assumed he would play things slyly, leaving her to guess his intentions, but it seemed he intended to do the exact opposite.

Marcus leaned closer to her across the table, and she instinctively leaned in to hear whatever it was he was about to say.

"Make no mistake, Hermione Granger, you are exactly my type." There was no smirk on his face, and she could read the seriousness in his eyes. She felt a blush rush to her cheeks, and her skin prickle at the knowledge that this handsome specimen of a man before her, wanted her in some way.

She was saved from responding, by their waitress approaching to take their orders. Hermione ordered the Steak Diane, while Marcus chose Duck confit. They agreed on crab stuffed mushrooms as an appetizer. And suddenly they were sitting in silence. Hermione wasn't sure how to break the tension, but was saved when Marcus held out his hand to her. "Dance with me?"

Hermione smiled and laughed, "I don't know how to swing dance!"

Marcus smiled in return, still offering her his hand, "Ah, but I do."

Seeing the laughter in his eyes gave her the confidence to place her hand in his, "Alright, but I don't want to hear it if I step on your toes."

Marcus' short bark of laughter made her smile wider. It had truly been too long since she had had this much fun. Marcus pulled her onto the dance floor and began to sway with her to Benny Goodman's song "Sing Sing Sing". She laughed along with Marcus and allowed him to twirl her around the dance floor. Encouraging her to follow his lead, He twirled her around and under him, sending her twirling outward, before pulling her back in. She wasn't sure she was doing it right, but somehow it didn't seem to matter. Not with Marcus smiling and laughing with her. Soon she was breathless from the exertion of dancing while laughing, so she and Marcus retreated to their table for a breather.

Smiling wildly at Marcus she asked, "Where in the world did you learn to dance like that?" To say she was surprised was an understatement. Swing Dance was a typically muggle dance, and had only recently come into fashion among the wizarding folk.

"My father may have been a Death Eater, but my mother, my mother loved music and dance." A fond smile played across his face when he mentioned his mother, and Hermione wondered what kind of woman she had been. "So when I was younger, she would take me to dance classes. She would attend the adult classes, and I would attend the children's. Oh how I hated it!" He chuckled meeting her gaze over his wine glass as he took a sip, "Funny how those are some of my best memories now."

Hermione smiled softly at him, picturing a much younger Marcus fussing with dance clothes and shoes, trying to find a way out of it.

"So tell me something about you."

Hermione thought for a moment, "Well, when I was five I showed my first sign of accidental magic. Everyone else thinks I brought my books to myself, but in reality I turned a girls hair the most horrid shade of puce I could imagine. She had stolen several of my books, and held them away from me as she ripped the pages from them. I was so surprised, I took off running for home. I thought she had done it." She laughed shaking her head slightly. She had never told anyone that. Not even Harry, and she told him everything.

Marcus laughed along with her, "A book lover even then."

Hermione nodded and took a sip of her wine. A server appeared with their appetizer and they nibbled in comfortable silence, only commenting on the food for a few moments.

Hermione took the time to scrutinize Marcus more thoroughly. Honestly he was too handsome for words. Long dark lashes surrounded his eyes, which were framed by groomed eyebrows. Square jawline and decidedly kissable lips, the man was akin to a Greek statue. Ares perhaps.

"You're staring." He told her, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

Heat flooded her face and she was once again saved by the delivery of their meal. Quickly cutting off a piece of her Steak Diane she was grateful for the distraction. Marcus merely smiled as if he knew what had been occupying her thoughts, which only served to make her blush more.

The rest of the meal was spent with small talk, both of them skirting around the obvious attraction between them. Once they had had their fill, Marcus held out his hand for her again. This time Hermione didn't protest as he led her to the dance floor. This time the slow strand's of Doris Day's "Dream a Little Dream of Me" filled the air, and Hermione was pleasantly surprised when a woman stepped forward to sing along with the music. They swayed together peacefully, while she rested her head on his chest. She could honestly say, this was one of the best dates she had ever been on. If not the best.

As the final chords fell away, Marcus leaned down to whisper against her ear, "Dream a little dream of me, Hermione."

Glancing up at him she knew without a doubt that he would be in her dreams tonight. And every night leading up to the ball.

*M&H*

Hermione was frustrated. In the week since her date with Marcus she hadn't been able to get in touch with him. That night he had took her home, kissed the back of her hands while looking in her eyes and then disparated before she could invite him inside. The next day she had received a large package from him. Inside had been the most exquisite ball gown she had ever seen. Floor length in Slytherin green, with a silver beaded bodice, that flowed effortlessly into tulle. A pair of matching silver pumps accompanied the dress, as well as a note. It had simply read, "I'll enjoy seeing you in Slytherin green. -Marcus A. Flint".

Her first reaction was indignation, she had planned to buy her own dress. Perhaps a gold number that would have made her look like a princess, or a daring red cocktail dress that would make sure she stood out. Her second thought was intense curiosity as to what the A in his name could stand for. She had wracked her brain for hours trying to come up with a name that would match the man. It had seemed impossible. The man was larger than life, and mundane names just didn't seem to fit with the man she was coming to know. So she had forcibly put the wondering from her mind, and vowed to ask him the next time she saw him. Unfortunately he had evaded her at every turn. Always seeming to be headed to a meeting any time she sent him a missive, going up in a crowded lift when she was going down, taking his lunches outside the Ministry with other officials. It was enough to make her want to pull her hair out. And she had no doubt he knew exactly what he had done. It was no secret that she had to know everything, so presenting her with information without giving her any actual answers was driving her barmy.

To top it off, their picture had been plastered across the Daily Prophet, declaring them the next "it" couple. It had been one date! Showing up with Marcus tonight, was sure to set the tongue's wagging. Honestly she wondered what his opinion of all this was.

It was no matter though, she would get her answers tonight. She had absolutely no problem badgering the bloody Slytherin until he gave in to her. So she donned the gorgeous dress and shoes, pinned her hair up in an intricate updo allowing a few stray curls to frame her face, and applied a light amount of makeup. It was a quarter til eight and Marcus should be arriving shortly. Taking one last long look in the mirror she was satisfied with her appearance. She had considered wearing some of her jewelry, but felt as if wearing fake jewels would somehow downplay the dress she wore.

Sighing she shook her head and tucked her wand away in the specially designed pocket, and made her way to the living room to wait. She had barely entered the room when she heard a knock on the door. Smiling she answered the door, and felt her breath catch. Marcus was wearing a tuxedo, complete with a bow tie. Grasping the door handle she ignored the cocky smirk on his lips. Pulling the door open wider, she made to step out into the hall, but was stopped by Marcus' gentle touch on her shoulder.

"I have something for you."

Hermione felt her face flush, "Oh no! You've already done so much. It truly isn't nec-" She began to protest.

"I want to. Please?" He asked, looking down at her through thick eye lashes. She felt her heart skip a beat.

"I-I, only if you truly insist." She managed to stammer out. She cursed her traitorous nerves for betraying her voice. She was a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake.

Marcus' smirk grew wider. "I do."

Motioning for her to turn around, he slipped his hands around her and she felt a cool chain rest on her neck. His hands were sure as he fastened the clasp and she briefly wondered if he had done this before. Seeming to read her thoughts, he murmured against her ear, "I used to help my mother in her late years. Her hands shook to much to close the clasp, and the house elves couldn't use their magic on the goblin made objects. I got rather proficient at it."

Hermione shivered at the feel of his warm breath against her ear. A smile played on her lips as he recalled his mother. She could hear the love he held for her in his voice. It made her briefly think back on her mother, and how they used to spend entire days together traversing book stores. Turning to face him, she placed her hand at the hollow of her throat where a small charm rested. Trusting him that it was as elegant as the rest of the apparel he had chosen for her, she took his proffered arm gratefully, and allowed him to side-along her to the Ministry.

Arriving inside the atrium, Hermione felt her breath catch. The entire room was decorated in silvers, golds and shades of white. Fairy lights floated above the crowd, and the sound of an orchestra could be heard from the entrance. Tables were scattered around the open dance floor, covered in white table cloths. To the far left sat a fully tended bar, and directly in front of the new statue one could see the orchestra playing.

Several people smiled and nodded polite greetings to her and Marcus as they made their way through the room to their designated table. She smiled as she spotted Harry, and felt a frown grace her face when she saw him chatting with Zabini. She still owed that little snake payback, not to mention prying the charm he used on that blasted mistletoe out of him. Marcus deftly lead her away from the pair and she sent him a suspicious glance.

Before she could comment however, he had pulled out her chair for her with a slight flourish. Sighing she sat, and allowed him to push her chair in. Such a gentleman. It was strange to her, especially since the only other man to do such a thing had been Victor Krum.

"So, I have been weighed down by curiosity this week." She told him, taking a sip from the chilled water goblet in front of her.

Marcus' eyebrow raised questioningly, "Is that so, Hermione?"

Nodding she smiled gently, "It is. I've been trying to figure out what the A in your initials could possibly stand for."

Marcus let out a chuckle and shook his head at her, "And what did you come up with?"

"Absolutely nothing. Nothing seemed to fit." She huffed resignedly.

"Antares." Marcus replied, after all, she hadn't barged into his office or his home to pester him about his name. She deserved a reward.

"Marcus Antares Flint. Named after a Roman ruler and one of the brightest stars in the sky. Well you're parents certainly had big plans for you." She remarked wistfully. After all the names she had come up with, Antares had not been on the list.

Marcus smile held a bitter tinge to it, "Indeed they did. Antares is passed down from my grandmother's side. The Black's and their obsession with the stars."

Noticing his mood, Hermione looked for a change in subject. "Did you happen to see the papers?"

Marcus' grin was entirely too pleased and she felt her eyes squinting in annoyance.

"Indeed I did. I do say, we make for a rather fetching couple, don't you agree?" His smile widened as he took in the slightly pinched look on her face.

"You knew! You knew paparazzi would be there!" She gasped out in mock outrage. It truly was no surprise if she was honest, after all many prominent couples had dinner there often. She really should have considered that when they had arrived. Still, she could pretend to be a least a little bit cross with him.

The roguish grin confirmed her suspicions and she let out an unladylike snort. Prat, she thought fondly.

"I may have had an inkling. It's no bother to me to be seen with one of England's loveliest witch's." There was a sparkle in his eyes that made her giggle. Her mother always told her that flattery was a useless tool that only simple minded girls fell for, but at this moment she could see exactly why those girls would fall all over themselves.

Marcus spared a glance to the dance floor and stood, offering his hand to her. Taking it eagerly the two of them were swept away into a waltz, moving as one throughout the dance floor, Hermione couldn't help but to smile.

The flowed seamlessly from one dance to another, all the while talking quietly to one another. They spoke of work and Hermione's progress in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and of his in the Department of Magical Sports and Games. They spoke briefly about Quidditch, although Marcus could see she didn't have the same passion for the sport as he, and the subject was quickly dropped. They spoke of literature, and music, and theater. It seemed they came up with any topic just to keep the other talking.

Soon enough they had returned to their table, and the current Minister for Magic stood to make his speech. Marcus held Hermione's hand, and listened attentively, but Hermione was distracted by the small circles his thumb was making against her hand. Hermione was given a brief reprieve when the crowd applauded the Minister politely. Glancing at her plate she was surprised to find a meal had appeared on her plate. Roast potatoes, leg of lamb, and grilled asparagus sat prettily on her plate, and she dug in with fervor. Still keeping her manners about her as she ate, no need to look like a slovenly pig, she enjoyed every bite of food, unconsciously moaning in pleasure as her taste buds were assaulted. When she chanced a glance at Marcus, she noticed his eyes were dark and fixated on her. Delicately dabbing her mouth with her napkin, she sent him a shy smile.

Marcus returned the smile with a chuckle and leaned closer to her, " I have a surprise for you, after we finish dinner, if you'd like?"

His tone was uncertain, a slight quaver giving away his nervousness, and she felt her stomach roll with butterflies in response.

"Of course, Marcus. That would be lovely."

They breezed through dessert and Hermione was only slightly disappointed to say that she couldn't rightly remember what it had been. Before she knew it Marcus was leading her from the Atrium onto the muggle street outside. She gasped in surprise when she saw the horse drawn carriage awaiting them. Turning to him and smiling widely, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He hesitated only a moment, before wrapping his arms around her.

"Thank you!" She whispered against his chest, cheeks flushed from happiness and cold air.

Placing a gentle kiss on her head he whispered back, "You're very welcome."

He helped her step up into the carriage and sat beside her on the old fashioned bench. The driver smiled politely at the couple and made his way into the driver's seat, clicking his tongue and snapping the reins setting the horse's into motion. A warm flannel blanket was resting at their feet, and Hermione pulled it up onto them, curling into Marcus' side and absorbing his warmth.

Together they watched the scenery pass while the horse's trotted through London. Hermione's eyes lit up with excitement as she noticed the direction they were heading. The Thames River could be seen as they made their way near the enormous crowd, awaiting the fireworks spectacle. Just before reaching the crowd, the carriage came to a slow stop, and the driver let them off. Marcus handed the man a hefty tip, and gently placed his hand on Hermione's lower back, leading her through the dense crowd.

Turning to face Marcus with a smile, she couldn't help but to let out a little sigh. This had been one of the most perfect nights of life. The only thing that could possibly make it better would be a New Years Eve kiss from the man who had made it so.

The crowd around them had started counting, starting at sixty. Gasps were heard throughout the crowd as snow began to gently waft down on them all. Hermione's eyes locked in on a particular snowflake that landed in Marcus' hair, before melting away.

Thirty.

Marcus met her gaze, his hand resting at her waist.

Twenty.

Hermione's tongue darted out to wet her lips, while Marcus' eyes followed its trail hungrily.

Ten.

Hermione stepped closer to Marcus, face tilted up expectantly.

Five.

A moment of hesitance and then she reached up to rake her fingers through his hair and pull him down to her. Standing on tip toes she placed her lips on his. The fireworks in her mind went off well before those in the night sky. Heat rushed through her and she moaned when his tongue brushed against hers. She felt his hands wind their way into her hair, holding her steady as he angled his lips over hers taking control of the kiss. Teeth clashed against each other, as they tried to swallow the other whole. Unable to get enough. Slowly the kiss came to an end, with one, two, three gentle pecks against each others lips.

Smiling up at Marcus, with her hands still entwined in his hair she breathed out against his lips, "Happy new year."

Marcus' returning smile was blinding, as he placed yet another soft kiss on her lips, "Happy new year, Hermione."

* * *

 **A/N: Please don't hate me! So a little update, my muse has left me for all of my current WIPs. ALLLLLLL OF THEM. Right bitch she is. So, in order to hopefully appease her, I've entered in several holiday fests, and a few others as well. I'm hoping with fingers, and toes, crossed that she'll return my proper line of thought for the rest of my stories in the new year. I AM NOT ABANDONING THEM! They will be finished, it may just take a little bit more time. Please be patient with me. Til next time, Lilbit903.**


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